Saturday, 23 August 2014

Confessions of a Monophobic

The days go by
Fluently and facilely
The people who love her
And the people she loves
Hem her 
In ardour and amity
As the sun is high
So is the thin line
Of her pink lips
Curved up at its edges
To make her face gleam 
Red from the summer heat
And glowing because of the people she meets
 
As the bolt of her door
Appears in front of her sight
In the dead of the night
Her fears envelope her 
And try to drown her
In a dark cloud she can't escape from
Her bouts of loneliness
And helplessness
When she has no work to do
And not a single soul to talk to
Her demons slowly crawl out
From that space
Where she buried them
For the sake of the happy daylight

The people of the world
In dreamland and repose
But her nocturnal mind
Doesn't let her succumb 
To the weakness called tranquillity 
As she sits upright
The realization hits her
Straight in the lungs
Like a strong blow
As the wind rushes out of her carcass
She gasps for air
Fumbles for a breath
Her anxious eyes darting 
In search of somebody, anybody
But all she can see
Is the pitch of darkness
That penetrates her being
And she fathoms 
That her worst enemy is herself
She's in wrong company
When she's all by herself